


Why?

by MistressRen (Jokers_Sanity)



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Asshole Terry Milkovich, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bipolar Disorder, Bipolar Ian Gallagher, Child Death, Cutting, Daddy Issues, Dead Terry Milkovich, Depression, Domestic Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Established Relationship, Hurt Mickey Milkovich, M/M, Married Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mentioned Svetlana Milkovich, Self-Harm, Sexual Assault, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Triggered Mickey, Underage Rape/Non-con, Underage Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 14:03:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13548879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jokers_Sanity/pseuds/MistressRen
Summary: Oh, why, that's what I keep asking. Was there anything I could have said or done? Oh, I had no clue you were masking a troubled soul. God only knows what went wrong. And why you'd leave the stage in the middle of a song. - Rascal Flatts, "Why"Mickey Milkovich never thought he'd be a father. Well, to a kid that he actuallymeantto bring into the world, anyway. And now he's got three beautiful girls that have him wrapped around their little finger and he's pretty sure that he's never been happier.And then his fourteen-year-old daughter, Aggie, was assaulted by her teacher at school.





	Why?

**Author's Note:**

> Agnessa (Aggie), 14 years old: "pure", ice and fire, emotional, ambitious  
> Floriana (Flora, Flo), 6 years old: "youthful", stubborn and career-oriented, good leader  
> Mariana (Mari), 6 years old: "sad beauty", likes good things in life
> 
> HEED THE TAGS!!! Aggie is thus far undiagnosed, but displays signs of severe depression and bipolar disorder.

“I’m home!” Ian had barely set foot in the house that he shared with his husband of near twenty years when he sensed that something was… off. It was too quiet, almost unnaturally so.

Some of his earlier happiness faded when it became clear he would not be bombarded by tiny bodies bursting with excitement, having had to wait _all day_ for one of their Daddy’s bear hugs. He was not immediately overwhelmed with the thick, delicious scent of whatever it was that Mickey had decided to make for dinner. The TV was not blaring in the distance, nobody was bickering over their favorite toy… It was just _quiet_.

He kicked off his shoes and hung his coat on the rack beside the door, before making his way through the kitchen. Ingredients for what looked like chili lay strewn across the counters, half-prepared. There was a knife on the floor, sticky from the half-chopped beef roast that was rotting on the counter. Ian frowned. Oh yeah, that was _really_ safe with tiny hands about. With a sigh, he picked it up and tossed it into the sink.

“Mick… You there, babe?” A sharp pain had blossomed in his chest, his mind for the first time entertaining the idea that something serious could have happened. His husband was messy, yes, but not downright careless.

“Would ya fucking keep it down, fire crotch?” There was no malice in his husband’s voice, just an inexplicable sadness that made Ian’s chest hurt all the more. “I just got her to sleep.”

“What are you -,” his words fell away as he rounded the corner and found Mickey sprawled on the couch, their eldest daughter holding him so tightly it looked almost painful as tears streaked down her ruddy cheeks.

Mickey was kind of rocking her back and forth, rubbing a soothing hand up and down her back. Even at fourteen, she still seemed impossibly small in Mickey’s massive arms. Ordinarily, Mickey would’ve been bitching about how she was much too big to be held like this… but this was about as far from ‘ordinary’ as one could get. A few steps closer, and he could see the bruising around her right eye.

Red bled before Ian’s eyes as he realized that his angel had a black eye. Her right eye is almost swollen shut and _fuck_ , he wants to hit something. Is surprised that Mickey hasn’t done so already. Another step closer, and in the dim light of the living room, he could just make out the discolored bandages around her left wrist. The off-white gauze is stained an ugly reddish brown and it didn’t take a genius to know that that was blood.

“What happened?” Ian forced out through gritted teeth, his face red from the effort he was exerting _not_ to kill first and ask questions later.

Mickey swallowed hard around a lump that had formed in his throat. “Got a call from her school. A teacher… her _fucking_ teacher… He had his fucking hand shoved in her pants. Said he was gonna teach her a lesson.”

Aggie let out a soft whine, squirming a bit in Mickey’s arms. Mickey, being surprisingly gentle, shushed her softly and brushed several strands of dark hair from her face. “What… the actual… fuck?”

“Apparently, he wanted to show the ‘little piece of white trash’ her place, after she called him out for some misogynistic-sexist-somethin’ he was spouting in class.” Mickey grumbled.

“I’m gonna go slit that pompous motherfucker’s throat.” It never occurred to him that the man was likely already behind bars, or that attempted murder could land him in jail for the rest of his life… He paused for only a moment, confusion breaking through the anger that had clouded his mind. “How’re you so calm?”

“Calm?” The raven laughed brokenly. “Agnessa’s been crying since before I came and picked her up, spouting on about how it’s all her fault and she shoulda fought harder. Fuck, it took me three hours just to convince her I wasn’t mad at her for what happened.” He swallowed hard around a lump in his throat. “I ain’t calm.”

“Mick…” Ian didn’t know what to say, just knew that, if he could take back what he’d said a moment before…

Nobody mentioned the tear that chased down Mickey’s cheek, “That slimy bastard… He tried to rape my girl.”

Ian could almost imagine it. Mickey had just started to prep dinner when the call came in, the knife slipping from his hand and hitting the floor with a sharp _clack_ that would be largely ignored. It would take an immeasurable amount of self-control to keep from grabbing the baseball bat beside the door and bashing the old geezer’s head in, but one of the last functioning parts of his rational mind would tell him he couldn’t afford jail.

Kneeling down behind the couch, Ian drew his fingers through their daughter’s soft hair and kissed her temple. This close, he could see the way that Mickey was shaking. He’d been triggered, perhaps not so much by what had actually happened as the feeling of utter helplessness that came with being unable to do a damned thing about it. Ian should’ve known better. He should’ve…

He squeezed one massive shoulder gently, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck. “Do you want me to take her for a little while? Sounds like you haven’t moved in hours.”

Mickey hurriedly shook his head, “No, I… If you take her, I’m not sure I won’t end up doing somethin’ real fucking stupid.” And, somewhere between the lines, Ian is able to decipher that Mick _needs_ this.

Ian took a long, deep breath to steady himself, before asking softly, “Have you eaten anything yet..?”

One eyebrow raised, Mickey looked at him as if he’d suddenly acquired a second head. “Not all that hungry.”

“’M not gonna let you starve yourself, Mick. You need to eat. You _both_ do.”

Rising to his feet, he began to count backward from one-hundred in an effort to calm himself as he made his way into the kitchen. The routine of making a simple protein shake was enough to momentarily distract him from his newfound bloodlust, and by the time he was pouring the thick white liquid into a bottle he’d almost stopped shaking entirely. Almost.

Not for the first time, he wished that Terry Milkovich was still alive, just so he could rearrange the man’s face. He’d fucked Mickey up so badly… For years, the raven had scoffed at the idea of having kids together, if only because he was convinced he’d fuck them up royally. He didn’t want to bring another life into this world that was unwanted and unloved, never wanted their children to feel like he did almost his entire life.

Watching him now, holding their daughter in the same arms that used to bring much larger men tumbling to their knees, Ian knew that his fears had been misguided. He passed Mickey the protein shake, and their eyes met momentarily, before Mickey obliged and took a long swallow. The smaller man winced at the bitter taste, but was able to keep it down with ease. That earned a small smile from the red-head.

“Where’re the twins?” He asked suddenly. Mickey shifted Aggie in his arms, earning a frustrated whine.

“With Fiona. Gave her a call after all the shit went down at the school, said she was more than happy to watch ‘em for the night.” Mickey responded absently. He took another sip, “Y’know, you coulda added some sugar or somethin’. This shit tastes like ass.”

His eyes were once again drawn to her bandaged wrist, “Do we know..?”

Mickey shook his head, “It’s not from today, if that’s what you’re asking. All the slimy bastard did was rough ‘er face up a little, at least that’s what she says. I dunno what to think anymore.”

“I wish that this was thirty fucking years ago and I could shove that bastard’s dick down his own throat.”

“I can’t lose her, Ian.” Mickey confessed suddenly, his words laced with a fear that Ian didn’t think he would have ever associated with the smaller man before. “Fuck, I don’t think I could take it if she -,”

Ian quickly cut him off. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Who the hell said anything about her going anywhere? She’s here, right now, with us. And tomorrow, she’ll still be here. We’ll deal with this _together_ , ‘cause that’s what families do.” Not that either of them truly had stellar examples of ‘family’, but…

It took some coaxing, but Mickey finally rose off of the couch, carrying Aggie like an overgrown toddler into the master bedroom upstairs. He set her down in the middle of the bed, before tucking the blankets around her like a cocoon. His face was an unreadable mask as he climbed into bed beside her, tucking her head beneath his chin and taking a deep, steadying breath. If he noticed when Ian climbed in on the other side, he said nothing.

And God, Ian wished that he had the words to comfort Mickey, to remind him that Terry was long gone and could never hurt him again… But despite the ginger being much better at expressing his feelings, he found himself at a loss. Comfort was, ironically, Mickey’s domain. And so he threw an arm over both of their bodies and hugged them to his chest as tightly as he could.

It went without saying that nobody would sleep well that night.


End file.
